A/N: This is pretty much where the story itself kicks off, as the last chapter was pretty much just for background information. Please R&R and I hope you enjoy :)

The journal tumbled out of Amy's hands, falling to the ground with a dull thud, but she didn't even blink.

"Doctor?" She mumbled, her heart racing. He looked so different, so normal. She'd grown accustomed to seeing him in tweed, as that was what he always wore in her dreams (why he thought it was a good look, she didn't know).

"Yes, I'm the Doctor," he said patiently, but Amy just shook her head slightly. No, he wasn't the Doctor. He looked like her Doctor, and he sounded like her Doctor, but that was where the similarities ended.

Her Doctor scarcely stopped talking, going on and on, rambling about spaceships and aliens and altogether impossible things that Amy wouldn't have believed had she not seen them with her own eyes. This Doctor had yet to lose his seemingly everlasting calm, yet to break into a monologue that could leave her breathless.

There was an uncomfortable tightness in her chest when she realized that while he was looking at her, there was no recognition in his eyes.

"You... You don't remember me?" She asked, her face falling as her hope started to splinter. After all they'd been through, her Raggedy Man wouldn't just forget her, would he? Although... Wasn't it entirely possible that she hadn't meant anything to him while he'd been everything to her? She'd never really stopped to think about her significance to him, always imagining that he cared for the girl with the fairytale name.

"Amelia, we've never met before." He told her, eyeing her curiously. He didn't seem to think she was odd for making the suggestion.

Most of her doctors looked at her with a mix of pity and fear. She would rather have it that way, if she was being completely honest. Pity and fear were things Amy knew how to handle. She'd handled them before, and she was sure she would again. The Doctor didn't look at her that way though. He just looked at as though she were a puzzle, something that needed to be solved. A strange curiosity mixed with something that looked almost like guilt. Did he feel bad for what happened to her? Why would he?

After all, he didn't know her.

Amy glanced away, picking up her fallen journal before setting it on the table beside her bed.

"I don't want you," she told the man, not bothering to look at him as she spoke. She didn't care if he was the greatest physician in the universe, she wouldn't take him. She couldn't stand to see his face every day, knowing that he would only ever see her as a patient. Knowing that he wasn't really that mad man who had promised her the stars.

"I'm afraid I won't be that easy to get rid of, Amelia. I really do want to help you, want to understand what happened to you." He said gently, giving her a small, almost hesitant, smile.

No one had smiled around Amy in months. It was a welcome change. Unfortunately, that kindness came from the last person Amy wanted it from. She didn't want him to be kind to her. She didn't want to get attached, not when she knew that the mere sight of him would bring her renewed heartache.

"Get out," she snapped, moving so that she was standing in front of him, straightening up to her full height. She knew she wasn't an imposing figure. She was too scrawny and lank, too pale and sick. But she knew that she could be a frightening figure. After all, she'd scared away enough psychiatrists in the past. "I don't want you. I don't want your help, I want nothing you have to offer me. Get. Out."

The nurse that brought the Doctor in looked positively stunned, and Amy knew why. After all, she'd never been so hostile to a doctor before without at least sitting down to a session. But that woman didn't understand, didn't know.

The Doctor's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, though that was the only outward sign he gave that he'd been startled by her. "Amelia, you don't scare me. I truly do want to help." He said gently. He looked as if he wanted to reach out to her, but he refrained. Smart move. She had no restrictions about biting, after all.

"Why?" She asked, the edge in her voice still there, still obvious. "Why do you want to help me?"

"Because I don't want to see you like this, Amelia." He murmured, and she turned her head away.

"Amy." She muttered.

"What?"

"You keep calling me Amelia. I go by Amy." Hearing her full name with his voice stung unpleasantly.

"Amy," he echoed, nodding slightly. "I'll keep that in mind. Although Amelia, that's a beautiful name as well."

"Bit fairytale." She mumbled, feeling her heartbeat quicken slightly. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked her over, but she kept her expression guarded as she looked back at him. "What's your name?" She asked. "You proper name. You can't just be called 'Doctor'."

He was ready for that question, and he laughed faintly when she actually addressed it. "My name is Doctor John Smith. Hideously dull name, so I prefer to go by the Doctor."

"And what, your friends don't think that's weird, calling you the Doctor?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Amy didn't say anything, just nodding slightly. Undeniably, it made things easier knowing that his name wasn't really the Doctor, that he wasn't the same man from her dreams. But they were identical. He was the same as the Doctor from her dreams, the same as the Doctor who had come to visit her as a little girl.

Maybe she really was going crazy.

"And you really want to be my psychiatrist, John Smith?" She asked, purposefully using that name instead of calling him 'Doctor'.

"It would be my honor," he said, nodding, a faint smile touching his lips. He held his hand out to her as if he meant for her to shake it.

"Would you give me a chance, Amy?"

Amy didn't want him. She didn't want to feel a sharp stab of pain in her chest every time he spoke with her Doctor's voice. She didn't want to look at him and feel her heart ache, when he would only ever see her as a crazy girl that he was trying to help. She didn't want him. She wanted her Raggedy Man.

He was gone though, wasn't he? He'd left her, even when she'd needed him most. Even in a psychiatric ward, he couldn't be bothered to come in his blue box to take her away. He'd left her alone and scared and hollow.

When she took his hand, it felt the same as it had when her Doctor had told her to run from Prisoner Zero.

Despite her best intentions, she found herself gripping his hand tightly, afraid to let go. Amy had to be honest with herself, she'd missed gentle touches. She'd gotten so used to latex gloves holding her arms still, or cold hands still damp from being recently washed tilting her chin up so she could be examined. John Smith's hands were warm and soft, and she couldn't help but feel safe with him. She had no reason to, of course. Amy had grown to be a cold, isolated person who spoke less and less and started to succumb more and more to her own fantasies. She had no reason to trust John Smith, especially when he looked like he could be her Doctor's doppelgänger.

"I'll give you a chance." She murmured, giving a slight nod.

She would give him a chance, even if it ended up breaking her heart to do so. After all, the alien Doctor she'd met as a child had broken her heart so many times over the years, what else did she have to lose?